Long Quiet Poems
Long Quiet Poems. Below are the most popular long Quiet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quiet poems by poem length and keyword.
1.Fill me up, I am always lacking.
Consumption, the name of the game.
The hunger devours the horse,
fattens me to the core.
I'm about to burst...
Always empty,
yet full of
loveless
fear.
2. My my what a big piece of the pie!
Pension raiders anonymous.
We live to carry secrets,
yearning to fill this need.
Profit devotees
live a life of
penniless
loveless
fear.
3. I mean honest to God, what's the point?
We're all gonna die...why bother?
I may as well just sit here
wallowing in despair,
a quiet, lonely,
unproductive
slacker. A
loveless
fear.
4. You want the goods? I'll give you the goods!
Come here baby and say hello.
How easy is it to come
to life, awe inspiring
mother to us all
prostituting
shame, guilt, and
loveless
fear.
5. Mirror mirror on the bathroom wall.
Am I pretty enough to be
a beauty queen? Parade me
around in fancy cars.
I must protect my
reputation
hinged on a
loveless
fear.
6. Grass is greener on the other side.
Why wouldn't it be? These neighbors
are so filthy rich with their
hundred thousand dollar
landscaping jobs and
mansions built on
envious
loveless
fear.
7. In the end there was always hatred,
deeply seated, mindless, blind rage.
Searching for a suitable
target. Lies built on lies.
Ready to explode:
unforgiving,
merciless,
loveless
fear.
By all means, you sinless wretch
Go ahead, live on cloud nine!
But I can't share in your euphoric state of ecstasy...
I just don't feel that way about myself
never have
never will
*dedicated to Kevin Spacey and his love of all things sinful.
Echoes from the past
Still my thoughts, color me
In hues of melancholy,
Abiding, gentling, forgetting
There are moments
When hope was lost in the ancient
Feelings, bleeding
Through the silence, preventing
The quiet to rest on the prayers
Pleading for the light to shimmer
Into the present, where
Promise fades and grace, so amazing…
Reflections of my spirit
Breathing joy, heartening
Laughter, caresses
In the beauty of a kind word,
A soft memory unfolding
Like dandelion seeds, dancing
Haphazardly –
On the morning breeze,
Winds releasing the mysteries
Awakening poetry
In hues of passionate emotions,
Restoring the yearning
Stirring darkness
With stardust hopes, dreams
Kissing away the shadows,
Dimming the doubts, believing
In the serenity, sincerity
Breathless music in notes of grace,
Intimate strokes of grief,
Yet the light falls over the graves
Those who feed on antiques,
Blessings, archaic wisps
Forever touching the soul,
Growing honesty and glowing
Like the glistening wisdoms
Felt in the voice of light,
Rays raining down dewy moments –
Praising forever – feeling
Letdown by the past,
But sure that there is where –
Light meets faith and merges
With intimacy, so the bruising
Sympathies comfort – heal
Blessings, like a prayer
Fading into the past, the echoes
Screaming through the skies,
Letting forever know why –
Memories cannot die
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The alarm tried to hold me in the warmth of bed, but the world outside whispered otherwise. Through the blinds, I saw the trails brushed with pearly snow, as if dawn had embroidered them in lace. The cold waited for me—sharp, honest, inviting. I stepped into it quietly, not wanting to disturb winter’s fragile silence.
My breath rose in small clouds as I began to run, my legs stiff, my body reluctant. Soon rhythm found me: footfalls, breath, and snow. Narcy an animal crossed my path, only their tracks—silent signatures of life moving before me. The woods felt ancient, emptied of noise, filled instead with presence.
Snow drifted down, turning the world into a trembling globe of white. Time and distance became meaningless, and I imagined that the woods looked as it once did 100 years ago. I gazed into the distance; and for a moment, I thought I saw Henry David Thoreau standing outside his cabin near Walden Pond reminding me that solitude is its own kind of grace.
Here, in this quiet, I meet myself again. Here, the world falls away, and something truer rises.
snow-soft hush~
my breath and God’s breath
moving as one
the related personal narrative can be read at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/season_to_season_13582
—On Volition—
You declare you chose—
but answer this:
when did the choosing commence?
In that apparent instant
your hand inclined toward the cup,
or within the imperceptible sediment
of a thousand antecedent leanings
you never apprehended?
Something advanced—
not of you,
but through you—
a clandestine concord of forces
too refined to resist,
too intimate to perceive.
You arrived
at what had already been ordained.
Name it thought,
name it will,
name it the theatre of dominion—
yet every resolution
carries the residue
of an origin unobserved.
Even your doubt
is not sovereign—
it is but the reverberation
of a conclusion
unfolding itself within you.
And still,
you narrate—
“I decided.”
As though the river
sought counsel of the stone
before its turning.
As though the flame
petitioned leave
to ascend.
No—
you are not the author of the act,
but its articulation.
The motion precedes you.
The outcome recognises you.
And in that narrow interval between,
you confer upon yourself a title:
Choice.
Author’s Note:
I have been absent for some time, engaged in the quiet construction of a philosophical series titled The Unseen Dominion, exploring perception, control, and the unseen structures preceding what we call decision.
It is a quiet return, but a deliberate one.
The physical effects of trauma are like a thief that arrives in the quiet.
Stealing all that you hold dear and take for granted.
An eye that won’t stop twitching, vision that blurs at the edges, food that you can’t swallow.
Headaches bloom relentlessly, dull and throbbing, until they feel like a permanent fixture.
Hair thins. Joints ache. Muscles protest without cause.
The stomach turns unpredictable, and pain appears in places untouched, ghostlike and untraceable.
Each symptom, on its own, could be explained.
Stress, fatigue, something minor, something temporary.
There is hope in that. It can be solved; a cure is available. An end is within reach.
But together they are a living reminder of a darkness others fail to see.
So, the one enduring it questions themselves instead.
Because it’s easier to believe the problem is personal failure and not the body’s response to something catastrophic and overwhelming.
Even the simplest parts of living begin to feel like impossible negotiations with a system that refuses to cooperate.
There is a particular cruelty in that loss.
In feeling your own body turn unfamiliar and untrustworthy.
It strips away any sense of ease, any illusion of dignity.
And layered on top of that is the ever present, nagging and persistent shame.
The feeling of being somehow wrong, somehow unclean, as if the suffering itself is a flaw.
To live inside that reality is not just exhausting; it is isolating in a way that words can’t capture.
Or worse, with words that won’t be believed.
Daughter if you only knew, the nights I stayed awake
fighting fears and shadows, all for your sake
Through every storm and raging tide, I aimed to shield your light
built your strength, dear daughter, giving my all each night
You may not need me anymore, but my love stays true
I hope one day you'll walk right back through
For I'm always here if you’re feeling blue
a piece of me - forever loving you
As the years unfold, you drifted far from home
words once sweet can bring a tear, heart can ache alone
But the bond we have will never break apart
in the quiet moments, I feel you in my heart
Those sunny days, just me and you, laughter in the air
I did the best I could, and wished for more to share
Through hard times, I held on tight, trying to understand
how I could be the Mum and Dad, just doing what I can
Now you’re a Mum, with little ones to raise
life can be so busy, each moment filled with praise
I understand it’s hard, to find just a little time
but as the years roll on, I wish we were more aligned
No matter how far or wide you roam
please remember I once was home
I’ll be here waiting, holding you in my heart
you were my first born, sunshine from the start.
You may not need me anymore, but my love stays true
I hope you know there’s a piece of me, forever loving you.
First,
I thought of you as the guy
I had always searched for.
We chatted daily,
and it felt like home to me.
You would write such easy,
great things for me.
And I –
I liked you, really.
And then it happened:
Our first talk.
I had to call you;
we talked about gaming together,
and yes,
we did that too.
The moment I heard your voice,
I came to the realisation
which I feel now all the time:
I want to hear your voice
now, every time.
Which is weird,
because I hate calling people.
It’s awkward if I don’t know
what to say.
The silence is awkward.
But not with you,
I have to say.
With you, silence is scary.
The quiet moments are haunting me;
they show me
how it will be when we hang up,
how it would be
without you.
And that makes me think:
I never want to lose you.
The Two Little Cubs: A Quest for identity.
(A Cautionary Tale)
Two little leopard cubs
One shy, one bold,
went out to play
in the wild wide world.
Bold so bright -
Life a big adventure.
Shy so quiet-
Life a no go venture.
Played games together-
Shy learnt from Bold,
Rough and tumble
Not always gentle.
Which one do you think escapes
the focus of real danger?
Hidden out of sight...
Aqua Marine Musing again...
31 March, 2025.
True story captured by a wildlife photographer.
Lions are the fiercest of enemies for leopards. They attack and kill leopards without hesitation. The more adventurous cub, not yet
fully experienced in life was killed by lions. The "shy" cub escaped... To live another day.
Reminds me of Proverbs 22:3
"The shrewd one sees the danger and conceals himself.
But the I experienced keep right on going and suffer the consequences..."
I fear the eyes of strangers cold,
The ones that meet but never hold,
They seem to judge my smallest ways,
In silent scorn they leave me dazed.
Yet still I trust, like children do,
Believing hearts are soft and true;
For every wound, a whispered balm,
I find in quiet words of calm.
But what if love, that soft embrace,
Is only their mask and fleeting grace?
The good we do, the right we seek,
Can falter when our trust is weak.
Ethics rise, a beacon clear,
Yet often stumble under fear;
The moral light, like stars above,
Still begs the question—can we love?
And so, I tremble, standing still,
At the sharp edge of others’ will.
But in my soul, a hope persists,
That goodness blooms when fear resists.
Two
Granite
Twin lapids
Nest a couple
Died in the same day
With only few minutes
Of difference in the deaths
Sealing a vow made with a kiss
Love will last after eternity
Even in the quiet necropolis
__________________________________
For Overgrown With Vines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
Fourth Place
October 7, 2016